Dinner Party
by Elanor
Summary: An innocent dinnerparty was all Hermione wanted, but Seamus loose in a muggle Supermarket, Terry Boot bringing the entertainment and a cetain dark haired Slytherin sending her the eye, well, it turns out to be all but innocent. HrB and some other varied s
1. Default Chapter

**In Which Seamus explores a Muggle Supermarket.**

Seamus had thought from the moment in which he'd stepped into Tesco's that he'd been getting funny looks. That self conscious sort of feeling when you feel so awfully out of place, and immediately want to run out with your tail between your legs.

Or perhaps it was the green hair.

Seamus looked down at the list which Hermione had given him and stared at it. Hermione had decided to have a dinner party for all of her friends and he had somehow got roped into the role of chef's assistant. Said role involved Chef Granger ordering him to peel potatoes, wash about twenty sets of cutlery and go to the local muggle supermarket. Really, was it his fault that she had burnt half of her food? She was a lousy cook, but a determined one, and was now sporting a permanent vendetta against carrots and pancetta. What was pancetta anyway? It sounded like a disease to Seamus, "Excuse me doctor, I've had a rash on my groin this past weeks, I think I've got the pancetta's."

Snapping back into reality and away from food related diseases, Seamus scanned the list, noticing out of the six things on the list he didn't know what five of them were. Star anise? That sounded exotic and therefore explosive in Chef Granger's kitchen. Giving up on attempting to decipher the other ingredients Seamus looked up. He was in the magazine section, which really wasn't all that helpful, taking a deep breath he began to walk down various aisles, beans, biscuits, beverages, and poultry. After ten minutes of wondering around getting funny looks from most people and being eyed by most fifteen year old girls he passed, he wasn't really feeling any more accomplished. He hadn't found pancetta in the cereal, bean or pizza isles. Giving up, Seamus walked over to the Isle which was headed with "beer." Drinks were, of course essential for a dinner party.

Pulling random drinks off shelves made Seamus feel a bit more productive, he reckoned he could make some good mixes, and to make them more appetising picked up a packet of sparkly straws. Hermione had given him £20, he was sure she would be pleased with his good thinking; the shop was out of pancetta, carrots, star anise, mascarpone cheese, braising steak and evaporated milk, Hermione was sure to agree with him that alcohol was a more than substantial substitute.

Smiling happily, Seamus walked up to the tills, and began loading bottles of vodka, peppermint schnapps and Guinness onto the counter. The cashier eyed him with more than a little mistrust, a man with neon green hair, about £50 in drinks and a T-shirt bearing the Legend "Koalas… next 4km." The cashier sighed; it had been a long shift.

**In Which Ron and Harry Think**

"HARRY!" Ron Weasley yelled up the stairs, "HARRY, Hermione's trying to kill herself again!" Ron looked back down at the dinner party invite he had received and rubbed his eyes. The last time it had ended in Hermione being taken to St. Mungo's with a turnip for a leg; and amusing as that was to everyone else, Hermione hadn't spoken to them for a month.

Harry came down the stairs of his and Ron's flat in pyjamas, rubbing his eyes and looking thoroughly bemused.

"Please tell me she's not cooking again," he muttered despondently. He took the invite out of Ron's hand and read it

Hermione Granger invites you to a gathering of friends with food and drink-

That was all Harry needed to read, he threw it onto the kitchen table and started to dig around in the cupboards for some cereal.

"So, are we going?" Ron asked, watching Harry move around the kitchen.

"We have too, she'll bring the dinner party to us otherwise and quite frankly I'm quite happy with four walls and the oven intact." Harry slumped down onto a chair at the table and began to eat his cereal.

Ron sat down next to Harry and began scanning the guest list which Hermione had attached. He scanned the names for a few seconds before gasping in horror.

"Not Boot."

Harry looked up from his cereal and frowned, "Why not?"

Ron shifted in his seat, "He scares me."

"He's Gay Ron, not the plague. You just have to make it clear to him you're not interested." Harry said matter of factly.

Ron looked dubious, "And how do I do that?"

Harry paused from his eating, apparently deep in thought, "You'll have to get off with a girl in front of him."

"Harry! That's so wrong, so immature, so-" Ron paused, "I like it." Harry nodded happily and went back to his cereal.

"She's invited Malfoy. Why does she like him?" Ron asked grumpily.

"They're friends, she's worn him down a bit and he steels her magazines," Harry replied, not looking up.

"Humph. Oh God, Seamus is coming, what colour do you think his hair'll be this time?"

"Last I heard it was orange with nike ticks on it."

"He's an idiot," Ron muttered.

"Yeah, but a fun idiot, he's harmless, a happy drunk. Have you seen his koala t-shirt?" Harry asked amusedly.

Ron ignored Harry and ploughed on with the list, "Zabini? Does she even know he fancies her, and how do they know-"

"Shut up complaining, Ron," Harry replied, getting up and putting his empty cereal bowl in the sink. "I'm going back to bed." Ron glowered at Harry, as he walked back up the stairs. Harry really didn't get it; someone was going to end up either dead or diving off a ten metre diving bored into a mixture of Pimms and Vodka.

Probably both.


	2. Chapter2

**In Which Malfoy Steels Hermione's Magazines**

A knock at the door awoke Hermione from her panicked filled afternoon by the oven, Seamus was late and the guests were going to be there in two hours. She practically ran from the stove and ripped the door open.

"Oh, it's you," Hermione was severely disappointed. Draco Malfoy huffed in a gittish superior sort of way.

"I thought I'd come and assist your making of the first man made volcano," Malfoy drawled, walking in the kitchen, surveying the numerous pots and pans and purred slime on the walls.

Hermione bristled, "I assure you, Draco, that I am perfectly fine, and my cooking is-"

Malfoy held up a pan that had the bottom burnt through totally, "I saw this in a restaurant once, Granger; they called it; "when the trainee chef got drunk.""

"Shut up, it was an old saucepan that-"

"Old or not it's a cast iron saucepan. Just accept it, you're a crap cook." Malfoy was clearly enjoying the moment.

Hermione huffed, "I am not a crap cook, I need no, help, now go and whatever it is you do in my house."

"Steel your magazines?"

"Yeah, that."

Malfoy smirked and wondered off into her lounge, taking a seat on the sofa and picking up a random magazine. _Witch Weekly, _

"Honestly Granger, you buy this muck?"Malfoy called through to the kitchen. Hermione poked her head round the door to look at the magazine in Draco's hand.

"I steel it from Ginny, you nab all of my other decent magazines." Hermione replied matter of factly. Malfoy sneered, opening it up and reading exerts from articles at random.

"Weird Sister's bass player looses ear to Irate Jarvey. I feel sorry for the Jarvey. 101 ways to hold on to your Wizard; including sticking charms and an organic kumquat paste." Malfoy made a face, "that sounds distinctly illegal. I'll have to show it to Father." and with that he shrunk the magazine and shoved it into his pocket.

"I saw that!" came Hermione's angry yell from the kitchen.

"You saw nothing- you assumed I'd done something wrong, have a little face Granger."

"You have no faith in my cooking!"

Malfoy nodded solemnly, "I am not the only one, Longbottom was traumatised last dinner party. You blew up a saucepan that turned his hands red, or, wait did I dream that?"

Hermione snarled, but said nothing.

Malfoy smirked, "Oh, so that did happen? And didn't you also get taken to St. Mungo's with a turnip for a leg?"

"Just go back to stealing my magazines," Hermione said, irritated.

Malfoy picked up _Hag Weekly _and cringed, then looking around stuffed it in his pocket.

**In Which Ginny Strives Not to Fall Up the Stairs.**

The door bell of Ginny Weasley's house rung just as Ginny herself was getting changed. She tutted and rushed down the stairs, in only a skirt and bra- she was already late and frazzled. She ripped open the door to find one very startled Blaise Zabini standing in the doorway.

"Oh, it's you, I'm running late; come in." Blaise walked through the door staring somewhat apprehensively at Ginny.

"Er- right. Ginevra, you do realise you aren't wearing a top?" Blaise stated, rather awkwardly, trying to avoid contact with Ginny's chest.

"And I just thought I hadn't put the central heating on!" came Ginny's sarcastic reply as she thundered up the stairs. Then fell up the stairs.

"Ow, fuck," Ginny moaned, as she limped up to the top.

Blaise sighed and took a seat at a table in the kitchen, "I don't know why you're so anxious to get there, Ginevra, you don't trust Hermione's cooking any more than you can digest it."

"No, it take's the word "shit" to a new level," Ginny called down," but you're after some Hermione action and Hermione likes a prompt man."

Blaise blushed, "What makes you think I want some, "Hermione Action?" He could practically hear Ginny rolling her eyes.

"Perhaps it's the way you follow her around like a lost wombat on catnip." Ginny paused, "she'd like you more if you stole some of her magazines back from Draco."

"What; disrupt his ever growing collection of _teen witch weekly_? I don't think so. He'd come chasing after me with a dull spoon, intent on sawing off my leg!"

Ginny sighed and ran down the stairs, this time fully clothed. "What ever happened to the old Draco, the _"get out of my way you red-headed poor muggle-lover"_?"

Blaise sighed and stood up, looking unusually solemn, "He's never been the same since the night in the tent with Weasley," Blaise smirked, "I hear he had a nasty experience with a tent peg and a voodoo doll."

Ginny snorted, "He has an over active imagination, and serious issues. You know they have his name on record at all therapists' offices'?" Blaise heaved a sigh; Draco was just not what he used to be. "Anyway," Ginny continued, "what's the plan with Hermione? I know you've been all Slytheriny and plotty the past week; Theo said you'd been holed in your room."

"Bloody Theo; are Slytheriny or plotty even words?"

Ginny nodded, "Oh most definitely."

"I don't really have a plan. Just wait till she's loosened up a bit then, I dunno…"

"Sweep her off her feet and shag her senseless?"

Blaise stared at Ginny for several seconds, then,

"That would work."

Ginny nodded, "Of course it would. Anyway, let's move out, I hear Terry's bringing the entertainment; it'll be worth it if only for the look on Ron's face. Though I doubt it'll top last year's blue haired tigers which tried to hump his leg."


	3. Chapter 3

**In Which there is a Lost Puffskein at the Door.**

The scene was amusing when surveyed from the eye of Draco Malfoy. Hermione Granger, burning sauces, tutting and constantly throwing her ever dwindling collection of magazines dark looks.

"Where is Seamus?" Hermione demanded frantically. Malfoy shrugged and looked up from his magazine with an amused sort of glare. "I mean it was only about five things and he could have Apparated- but he's been over an hour and a half!" Hermione continued desperately, "he better not have ended up in that strip club again. I don't care how courteous "Mercedes" was."

Malfoy turned up his nose, "Mercedes? That is a truly disgusting name-sounds German." Hermione tutted again,

"Say's the man called "Draco."

Malfoy fumed, "I'll have you know Draco is a very dignified name, it's Latin."

"What for? Magazine stealer?"

"Dragon, actually," Malfoy stated imperiously.

Hermione snorted, while stirring a suspiciously black sauce. "Your father obviously felt he had something to prove."

"My father was a twat who would have eaten a doxy if Voldie asked him too."

Hermione paused in her efforts to make dinner and turned around. "He didn't- did he?"

Draco sighed, "We never have got to the bottom of it, certain post mortem's show-"

The doorbell rang suddenly, efficiently steering the conversation away from Lucius Malfoy's possible death by doxy.

"Oh I hope that's Seamus," Hermione said as Draco walked over to open the door. He sneered at the person in the doorway.

"It's a lost puffskein; want me to kick it, Granger?"

Neville Longbottom stuck his head round the door a confused look on his face. Hermione rolled her eyes and walked over to the door, pulling a magazine out of Malfoy's grasp.

"Ignore him- he's still traumatised over doxy man's death. Do come in Neville." Hermione said, opening the door wider and elbowing Malfoy in the stomach.

Neville smiled at Hermione and walked in carrying a bottle of wine.

"Here- I thought- it would be nice to bring-"

"Well, you though wrong," Malfoy sneered smoothly.

"Did I mention recently," Hermione began, shooting daggers at Malfoy, "that I don't like you?" Malfoy huffed and walked back into the lounge to find some more magazines. "Don't mind him Neville," Hermione said, "it was a lovely idea to bring some wine."

Malfoy coughed from the lounge, "suck up."

"Er, do you want me to help at all, Hermione?" Neville asked, looking unsurely in the general direction of the lounge.

"She doesn't need any help, she's bloody stubborn-"

"Could you set the table for me Neville, please?" Hermione said smoothly, cutting across Draco's yell from the other room. Neville nodded, and walked over to the work top, where Hermione had taken out some crockery.

Suddenly there was the loud crack of someone Apperating into Hermione's kitchen- something which caused Neville to drop and break a plate. Seamus Finnegan smiled at them all, carrying several bottles of spirits, cans of beer, bottles of wine and oddly enough a pack of sparkly straws.

"Don't worry Chef Granger- we have all the essential supplies."

**In Which Terry loses a two pound Coin.**

Terry Boot looked at it in some doubt. What if it was some sort of amputated wand? He'd seen other muggles using them, but well, looked how they'd turned out. Terry gritted his teeth, looked down the road; there were people, they'd save him if it attacked. He narrowed his eyes and walked into the phone box.

Nothing.

Terry let out a sigh of relief; if it was going to attack now was as good time as any. He reached out for the phone and brought a piece of parchment from his pocket with a long line of numbers on it. He began studiously typing them in, with the receiver at arms length. Then, he put in a two pound coin. He tentatively brought the phone to his ear in time to hear a gruff mans voice speaking.

"Pete's electronics rentals, how c'na 'elp?"

Tentatively Terry spoke, "Erm, I need to hire some entertainment for tonight."

There was silence, "We got, a widescreen TV and two playstations left, if you-"

Not knowing what a TV or playstation was, Terry consented. "Perfect, can I have them delivered?"

The man seemed a bit taken aback at how willing Terry was, "Er, yeah, anywhere within a five mile radius is free."

Terry thought, "Tillerton is where I need them delivered too, is that ok?"

"Er, yeah, that's only a couple of miles, what's the address?"

Terry gave the man Hermione's address,

"And we need them for about eight o' clock. Is that ok?

"The man grunted.

"I'll pay when you deliver them," he said. The man grunted again. Terry smiled,

"Bye bye," and with that he stopped talking. He just held the receiver. He looked around the phone booth wondering what to do with it. There was a coat peg on the back of the door which caught Terry's eye. Terry hung the phone on the peg and opened the door a minimal amount, managing to slip out. He stood outside the phone booth and smiled. The phone was still on the door handle and he had the entertainment booked.

Feeling rather proud of himself Terry wondered if he should phone Hermione to tell her, he pushed the door of the phone booth back open again and the phone receiver fell to the floor and cracked, exposing the cables.

Terry looked left and right, no one had seen.

He ran.


	4. Chapter 4

**In which Theo Doesn't Like Leather Seats.**

"Will you stop twitching like a caged hippogriff?" snapped Hannah. She and Theo were in the back of a muggle taxi on the way to Hermione's house. Theo sighed,

"This seat's itching," he sneered.

"It's leather! How can it itch?" demanded Hannah frantically, trying to avoid the taxi driver's curious looks.

Theo sniffed, "Precisely, leather."

Hannah looked at him blankly. Theo sighed again,

"I'm allergic."

"To leather?" Hannah asked disbelievingly.

"No, to muggle things," Theo sniffed. Hannah ground her teeth together.

"You're wearing trousers, it's not chaffing, deal with it!" Theo sat for the rest of the journey with a look on his face which suggested he was a bout ready to start crawl up the walls.

"Are we there yet?" he asked ten minutes later.

"Yes," Hannah replied. Theo frowned,

"We're still moving, how can we be there?"

"I lied," snapped Hannah irritably. He huffed and addressed Hannah,

"What's that?" he asked, indicating the object in her hand.

"It's a bracelet," she replied, showing it to Theo.

"Why aren't you wearing it?" he demanded.

"Because I prefer playing with it," Hannah ground out.

"Why?" Theo asked. Hannah snapped.

"Because I do, okay?" Hannah said angrily, "Can you shut up for the rest of the journey? You're pissing me off royally."

Theo crossed his arms over his chest and huffed in his seat like a child. He said nothing for a few minutes, just tutted at intervals. After a few moments of this the taxi driver switched the radio on and some music started playing.

Theo began humming,

then singing,

then Whistling.

Hannah ground her teeth together, her eyebrows knitted.

"Please," Hannah begged, "for one minute, SHUT UP!" she was breathing hard, red in the face, her hair escaping her neat plait.

Theo stared at her open mouthed. "There's no need to get so worked up," he replied mildly.

"Worked, worked up?" gasped Hannah staring at him in disbelief.

"Yeah, just, deep breaths, Abbot, in through the nose- hey!" Hannah had just thrown her handbag at him. "What was that for?" Theo demanded.

Hannah sniffed, "The breathing wasn't working for me."

It was about fifteen minutes later that Hannah and Theo approached Hermione Granger's house. Hannah still red in the face, hair coming out of her plait and Theo carrying a woman's handbag.

The taxi driver drove off muttering under his breath about married couple's needing counselling.

"Seamus! But my ingredients, you come back with ALCOHOL?" Hermione shrill cries could be heard from outside of her front door.

Seamus' alcohol was appealing to Hannah a lot at that point.

**In Which Susan Doesn't Understand Carrots**

"Seamus," Hermione moaned in desperation. "Alcohol, why alcohol?"

Seamus looked utterly perplexed, as he put the bottles and cans down on the kitchen table, which Neville had frozen in the process of setting.

"I didn't know what half the things on that list were!" Seamus cried, throwing himself into a chair. Hermione looked about ready to tear her hair out.

"Even Draco knows what carrots are!" she said through gritted teeth. Malfoy nodded from his position in the doorway.

"I read about them in a magazine once." Neville bit his lip to keep from laughing.

"He's not joking," Hermione said grimly to Neville. Neville looked thoroughly out of place and lost.

"Well- how about we do some drinks and cocktails with the alcohol then order in Chinese or something?"

Seamus's eyes widened and he gesticulated frantically towards Neville. "Yes- see; that's what I though all along!"

"But," Hermione whined, "I wanted to cook!" Malfoy snorted from his doorway.

"That in itself was dangerous, Granger. Trust me- this is the best way. I know a guy at a Chinese place." Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Well, okay," Draco amended, "I don't know a guy, but I could check a magaz-"

"No- I'm sure, er," Hermione faltered throwing Draco a worried look- they really shouldn't be feeding the addiction.

A sudden pop made Neville drop all the cutlery he was holding and Seamus spin round in his chair.

"Hi," smiled Susan Bones happily. She was carrying what appeared to be a bottle of liquor and was smiling at them all mildly.

"Susan, do you know a Chinese Restaurant?" Hermione asked desperately. Susan looked thoroughly confused, but replied calmly.

"Yeah, why?"

"Seamus didn't buy the carrots," Hermione replied irritably.

"Carrots aren't Chinese though," Susan replied, confused.

"God- please, Susan, we don't have time, do you know a Chinese restaurant?"

"Er- yeah, hang on," she brought out her wallet from her back pocket. She flicked through it before plucking a card out and handing it to Hermione, who stared at it. Hannah shrugged, "In case I get hungry- dead useful you know."

Seamus nodded understandingly and Hermione, deciding not to press the issue, grabbed her phone off the worktop and punch in the number off the card.

"Er- hello, could I have a selection of food to feed twelve people please?" Hermione paused before giving her address. "And how soon can you have it here for? Right, that's fine thank you, bye."

"Sorted?" asked Neville. Hermione nodded and handed the card back to Hannah, but not before turning on Seamus again.

"Seamus! But my ingredients, you come back with ALCOHOL!" it seemed Hermione wasn't as chilled out as they hoped and Seamus looked very scared. Before he could answer however the doorbell rang. Malfoy walked over to the window and peered onto Hermione's porch.

"It's the couple in need of therapy- should I let 'em in?"


	5. Chapter 5

**In Which Harry has Lung Cancer**

Harry Potter choked on a considerable amount of ash.

"Lung cancer-"he croaked, with a hacking cough setting in.

"Harry! Are you all right?" Hermione rushed over to Harry, who was lying flat on his face at the foot of her living room fireplace. Harry coughed more and replied,

"Not," cough, "really."

Malfoy watched them from his position in the doorway, smirking.

"I really do feel sorry for that fireplace; did you ask if you could inhale its ash? I'm sure it's not feeling any better than-"

"Fuck off, Malfoy," Harry croaked, attempting to pull himself up. His attempt was quashed by Ron, who came shooting out of the Floo, only to trip over and land on top of Harry.

"Oh- my eyes!" screamed Malfoy hysterically, "I think I'll let Theo and Huffle Mcpuff in."

"Please do Miss Magazine," spat Ron, rolling off Harry. Harry looked even more ill than before and somehow managed to get himself to a sitting position, thought had his knees up and his head between his legs. Neville walked over worriedly, while Susan waved at Harry and Ron from the kitchen- apparently totally unaffected by the living room display.

"Do you want some water Harry?" asked Neville, standing awkwardly. Harry didn't look up, but replied testily,

"No thanks, Neville."

Meanwhile, Malfoy seemed to be talking to Theo, whose coat he had hung up, while totally ignoring Hannah, who had sat down next to Susan, and was currently peering through the door into the living room.

"I'm alright," said Harry a minute later, getting up shakily. Hermione smiled happily and gave him a hug.

"Why did you travel by Floo in the first place?" Hermione asked, "You don't do Floo." Ron smirked from his position next to Neville.

"I told him the apparition wards were up round your house," Hermione gasped and Harry threw Ron a look of pure hatred. "So, obviously Floo was the only alternative," he finished innocently.

"Moving swiftly on," said Theo smoothly, entering the lounge with Malfoy in tow. "Someone just knocked at your door." Hermione sighed and thanked Theo, before hurrying over to the door; greeting Hannah in the process.

She gasped and threw her head into her hands.

The rest of the friends only heard,

"Deliv'ry feh Mr Terry Boot."

**In Which Hermione Needs some Convincing.**

"Brilliant- aren't they?" asked Terry happily, practically skipping in after the delivery man. He was preceded by a widescreen television which could barely fit through the door.

"They? There's more thank one?" Hermione asked faintly. Terry smiled hugely and looked around at all of the guests, who had gathered into the kitchen.

"Hi you lot? Am I late? Oh well- oh," his gaze came to rest on Ron. "Hello, Ron," Ron shuddered and looked away. Malfoy rolled his eyes irritably and eyed the television.

"What it it? I've already told you lot I don't need therapy- that's what it is- isn't it?" Malfoy seemed suddenly hysterical. "There is_ nothing_ wrong with magazines- I'm not addicted and this big, big," he stuttered. "Box will do _nothing_!" Terry stared at him open mouthed.

"Magazines, Therapy? Have I missed something?"

"Nothing you honestly will want to catch up on," Theo replied, also eyeing the television. "It's not leather is it?"

Terry replied, "It's a widescreen, TV!"

Blank looks

"It shows you pictures," he began, only to be interrupted.

"And information? Can you turn its pages- does it have adverts-"

"Go and sit in Hermione's pantry for a few days- maybe that'll make you sane again," said Hannah derisively.

"Yes- moving on," said Terry hastily, watching Malfoy fume. "It shows pictures and information- series of events. Muggles swear by them." Yet more blank looks greeted his speech. "You can get porn on them." A few people started nodding and looking at the TV in interest.

"TERRY! I will not have such things in my house! Now, you can take that TV-"

"Shut up and enjoy yourself, Hermione," interrupted Seamus, shoving a brightly coloured cocktail into her hand. Hermione looked at him with deep mistrust.

"Well you lived in Gryffindor Tower with Fred and George for five years and you're still alive- take a chance."

Hermione sighed knowing she was never going to win- she was outnumbered. She smiled ever so slightly and sipped her drink. That seemed to have been the approval the masses needed. Seamus began mixing cocktails and handing out can's of beer.

"Wheel her into the living room!" yelled Terry to the delivery men- who seemed to have blanked out during the entire previous conversation. They probably assumed most of the guests were drunk. They're guess wasn't far off.

"Don't mind about that bookshelf- nah, not valuable," called Terry as a loud crunch was heard.

"That's my Victorian mahogany one," replied Hermione faintly. She sighed and collapsed onto a chair at the table where she was comforted by Neville and Susan.

"AAAHHH! What the hell?"

It appeared Ginny Weasley and Blaise Zabini had just Apparated onto the widescreen TV.


	6. Chapter 6

**In Which Blaise Attempts to Cheer Hermione up**

"Have I just landed on a giant fellytone?" Ginny Weasley yelled hysterically. She had her hand wrapped round Blaise's wrist in a death grip.

"I think it's a television," came Hannah's voice from the kitchen.

"Great," Blaise said sarcastically, "it's almost as if that TELLS ME ANYTHING NEW!" Blaise and Ginny appeared to be panicking.

"Just Apparate off it," said Hermione impatiently, peering through the door while sipping her cocktail. She seemed to have loosened up a rather large amount.

"Oh," Ginny grinned guiltily, "yeah, that would work." She and Blaise appeared on Hermione's couch a minute later, grinning in a slightly embarrassed sort of way.

"So, what does it do?" Ginny asked, eyeing the television with mistrust while Blaise studiously avoided Hermione's eyes.

"Show's porn, apparently," Seamus said offhandly, drifting in with a beer. "At least that's what puffta Boot says." He indicated to Terry who was guiding the delivery men in.

"I resemble that remark," he called irritably over the room.

"You sure do- I think poor Weasley's scarred for life," Seamus grinned and indicated Ron, who went bright red and tried to look like he hadn't heard him.

Hermione didn't seem to be able to cope with the chaos in the lounge and so drifted back into the quieter kitchen, cocktail in hand. Blaise didn't need the poke which Ginny delivered to his ribs to make him go after her. Blaise stood up and smoothed his shirt before walking casually through the lounge and into the kitchen. He blended perfectly into the surroundings; nothing suspicious.

So, naturally everyone knew what he was about to do. And they rather supposed that Hermione's current alcohol consumption would aid the matter.

Hermione was sitting at the table on her own; Theo Hannah and Susan were on the other side of the kitchen chatting. Blaise sat down next to her and attempted conversation.

"Didn't quite turn out the way you were expecting then?" Hermione laughed hollowly.

"I don't know about what I expected but opposite to what I wanted. I don't know who I'm kidding Blaise; I can never pull these things off." She looked up from her cocktail and faced him looking infinitely sad. Blaise's heart broke with that one broken smile she gave him.

"You can do this, Hermione. Circumstance holds you back- this wasn't your fault- Terry said it was Seamus who didn't get the right ingredients for you." Hermione smiled and laughed.

"And the moral of the story is never set Seamus loose in a muggle supermarket." She smiled and looked up at him. "Tell me a bit more about how it isn't my fault. Blaise grinned crookedly, blushing red inside.

"Boot; you didn't make him bring that," he indicated the television. "Bloody scary thing it is too."

"Don't swear," Hermione said automatically- but here words held no conviction.

"You don't have to be here convincing me Blaise Zabini. Why are you?" She looked back up at him from her drink, smiling curiously.

Blaise leaned forward and kissed her.

**In Which there isn't Porn**

Malfoy seized the television remote and looked at it. He sniffed.

"So, is this like its index?" he asked, attempting to pull a button off it.

"That's the remote, Malfoy; you use it to control the TV. It bears no relevance to magazines. Accept it." Terry replied, yanking the remote out of Malfoy's hands. He pressed a few buttons until the TV came on.

"That's not porn," Ron said matter of factly, staring at the eight o' clock news.

"It could be," Neville reasoned, "what if it's you know, foreplay?" he blushed, but was staring at the television avidly.

"You need to see a therapist, Longbottom."

"And while he does, you can go too, Malfoy," Terry replied. He walked backwards and flumped onto the sofa, still pressing buttons on the remote.

"Hi Ron," he said jovially as he sat next to him. Ron said nothing but kept looking at the television, trying to ignore Terry.

"I'm pretty sure I was promised porn." Malfoy continued stubbornly.

"You were promised nothing," Ron replied irritated. "But I can promise you a bat bogey hex if you like?"

"My prerogative," Ginny shouted from her spot on the floor where she was talking to Harry and Seamus.

Terry seemed to be gradually getting the hang of the remote; the volume was going up and down.

"So," Neville began, "will Blaise work up the nerve?"

Ron snorted, "He's been trying to work up the nerve for about three years. I've always though he was scared of Hermione rather than in love with her.

"PORN!" yelled Malfoy delightedly, pointing at the television.

"That's a documentary, Malfoy," Terry replied, giving him a funny look.

"I could have sworn there was porn," he replied, staring at the TV closely.

"What d'you think would happen if Malfoy ever came across porn magazines?" Neville whispered to Terry.

Terry, however ignored him and turned onto a channel where there were women walking around a city.

"This looks good," he commented, nudging Ron, who flinched.

"Er, yeah," Ron replied, trying to shift onto the floor.

"It's not porn though," Malfoy whined, staring at the women.

The scene changed and the woman went into her house and took off her jacket.

"There you go, Malfoy; porn."

"Has anyone actually seen Hermione or Blaise in the past twenty minutes?" Harry called from the other side of the room. Various people shook their heads.

Ginny grinned, "They must be…busy."

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed- please review! As ever, if you're on livejournal this has its own account where it is ongoing! Friend it, say hi! **


	7. Chapter 7

**In Which Alcohol Takes its Effects**

Hermione stared at Blaise as he pulled away from her mouth. She was in serious shock and was sure it wasn't the second cocktail she was on, (though she was definitely more lucid.)

Really, she wasn't complaining, quick though it had been it was still a bloody good snog.

"Why'd you do that?" She asked bluntly, staring at Blaise, who was looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Er- because you, you, er. The alcohol was making you look funny- I though you might pass out." He blurted, avoiding Hermione's eye.

"Clearing kissing stops you from a blackout then?" She asked, amused, attempting to hide her embarrassment.

Blaise began to nod, then stopped. "Er. Perhaps that was a pretty crap explanation?"

"Perhaps," Hermione replied, unconcerned. She took another sip of her cocktail, rather liking watching Blaise squirm. "Well? I'm guessing we have some sort of attraction here- an obvious sign if you'll go to such lengths so I don't black out."

"Well," Blaise took a deep breath, "I'm in love with you.

Hermione chocked on her cocktail.

"What the fuck!" She yelled. She seemed to realise as soon as it had come out of her mouth what she'd said and immediately ducked her head and whispered. "You're out of your mind, Blaise- you don't know if-"

"Don't tell me I don't know," Blaise whispered harshly, "I've been in love with you for two years. I watch you Hermione, see your actions, know your words, anticipate what you're going to say. Don't tell me I don't know- the hell I don't."

Hermione gaped at him. Really, she was stumped.

"I, I don't love you Blaise," she replied honestly.

Blaise didn't bat an eyelid, "No, I know that. And I'm not asking you too. Just… give me a chance, please?" he begged, his eyes burrowing into Hermione's.

Really, it had been a very good snog and he was good looking, and rather smart, but a Slytherin? Dangerous-

"Yes. I think we can give it a go." She said matter of factly, taking another sip of drink. "Though I am starting to think this alcohol is affecting me a bit- I may not remember in the morning."

Blaise grinned at Hermione who was now humming as she sipped.

"You're meant to kiss me now," she said matter of factly.

"Er," Blaise looked shifty, "the straw's in the way."

**In Which Ron is Uncomfortable**

The widescreen television did not seem to have distracted Terry from his quest to "engage Ron in conversation."

"How are you doing this evening, Ron?" he asked, shifting closer, a huge smile plastered all over his face. Ron glanced at him shiftily before rapidly flicking his eyes back to the television.

"Okay," he replied briefly, in what he hoped was an uninterested voice. Terry chuckled,

"So, what have you been up too? I haven't seen you around for a while. Ron desperately restrained his urge to run out the door, but instead still didn't look at Terry and shifted slightly.

"Work; busy," he hoped it sounded vague.

"Oh yes Ron," Terry purred rather closely in his ear, "busy?"

Ron just about slapped him. He instead jumped up, violently read in the face and addressed Terry.

"Look, Boot," he began.

"Oh, I'm looking," Terry smiled, quietly.

"Exactly!" Ron yelled, outraged. He spluttered incoherently for a few seconds, "Look- er, not that, well I don't, he paused to take a deep breath- ignoring the curious looks from round the room. "NO!"

"Oh come on, Ron," Terry said gently, standing up. "Don't get so freaked out- seriously, how do you know you don't like something if-"

"NO!" Ron yelled again, somewhat hysterically, he started backing away from Terry, who was looking amused. "Seriously, an N and an O; do you not get it. NO!"

Terry's face dropped slightly, he stared at Ron.

"I get it," his voice was somewhat flat. He turned away from Ron and sat back down in front of the television, not looking at him. Ron immediately felt guilty.

"Look, Boot, I didn't mean it like that- we can be mates." Ron stepped forward, trying to engage Terry. His head snapped around rapidly.

"Mates?" he asked hopefully, face brightening, "with, privileges?" Ron red and shook his head violently. "Okay, I get it," Terry said wearily. He turned back to the television, and Ron walked off to talk to Harry.

"Doesn't mean I won't stop trying though."

Ron shuddered and kept walking.


	8. Chapter 8

**In Which Susan Flirts**

"Have they even noticed we're here?" asked Hannah, staring at the kissing Blaise and Hermione from the other side of the kitchen.

"I'd say no," replied Theo, attempting to avoid looking at the kissing couple.

"Oh they know," Susan said confidently, "the just don't care."

With all this having been said, however it was questionable that Blaise and Hermione knew what day of the week it was. They're drinks were discarded and they're lips sealed.

"Do they not breathe?" Theo asked appalled.

"Apparently not. C'mon, lets get out of here, I feel like we're perving," Hannah replied, leading them back into Hermione's lounge.

"We _were_ perving," Theo said matter of factly, before onto the sofa next to Terry. "Porn yet?" he asked cheerfully, to a somewhat subdued Terry. He indicated to what appeared to be a music video.

Hannah and Susan walked over to sit by Harry, Ron, Seamus and Ginny, all of whom appeared to consuming large amounts of spirits, (or Guinness, in Seamus's case.)

"Any word form the kitchen?" Ginny asked, cheerfully. She wasn't in a state of tipsiness, but she definitely rather cheerful.

"Bring in the medi wizards; they're sucking each other's faces off." Susan replied; taking Ron's cocktail to have a sip, before putting it back into his hand with a wink. Ron seemed to have lost all power of speech, staring at her.

"'bout time, Hermione needs a good shag," Seamus said matter of factly. Ginny elbowed him as Harry slapped his forehead.

"Oh, the images are burning!" was his muffled wail. Ginny snorted into her drink.

"Talking about the images; what about Terry, Ron?" Ginny asked innocently, twirling the cocktail umbrella in her drink. Terry was still shooting Ron looks from across the room.

Ron cringed.

"Oh, God, it's…it's so…"

"Amusing, flattering, turning you on?" Susan asked, nabbing another sip of his drink.

"Traumatizing," Ron finished, red faced, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead.

"So you need to give him a big, loud "NO!" With a sparkly sign?" Ginny questioned, shooting Susan the most fleeting of looks. Susan seemed to cotton on fairly quickly.

"Yes," Ron agreed oblivious.

"What say," Susan whispered, not too quietly, looking at Ron. "We put on a show for him?" Ron stared at her, then

"Yes, come on," he dragged her off the arm of a chair and began to walk her in the general direction of the kitchen door, by the sofa which Theo and Terry were sitting on.

Just as Terry looked up at Ron, a feral grin plastered all over his face, Ron pulled Susan into him and kissed her, for the world to see.

Terry looked away.

**In which Terry Takes Advice**

Terry was looking fixedly at the TV, not responding to Theo talking too him or the stares of the group on the other side of the room.

"Erm. I think that worked a little too well," Ginny said, slightly guiltily. The others were looking at Terry, a few nodded.

"Let's go and talk to him," Neville said reasonably, shooting Terry a worried look.

"You go, Nev; he won't appreciate crowding and you do that sympathy shit well," Seamus stated all too bluntly.

"Right. Erm- alright," Neville got up, took a deep breath and walked over, eagerly watched by all but Terry.

Theo seemed also to have seen him coming and made an exit before Neville sat down.

"Hi Terry, good TV?" Neville cringed at his first words. Terry clearly wasn't paying the blindest bit of attention to the TV.

"No porn," he said dully. Neville looked. He was right- it appeared to be a film.

"Are you alright?" Neville asked more quietly, leaning forward. For a few seconds Terry didn't move, but stared straight ahead. He turned a second later, looking blank and quite pale.

"I'm… sad," he said lamely. Neville didn't really know what to say; he was understanding, but Terry looked to be in his own world, a world without Ron.

"Look; Ron didn't mean to hurt you-" Neville began quietly.

"I know that, but he still did. A lot." Terry said bitterly, turning away.

"He wanted to get a point across. You and I both know he doesn't like Hannah, but I think you have to accept it Terry; he's not interested." Neville felt rather proud after that speech- it was tactful enough. He glanced behind him to see Seamus shaking his head. Ginny immediately elbowed him and a split second later he signalled Neville a thumbs up.

Neville turned back to find Terry scratching his neck.

"He said he still wants to be mates," Terry said a bit more hopefully. Neville nodded encouragingly,

"Precisely, you can't push Ron, go into it gradually, you may find something happens, or you may find that it blows over." Neville felt his bullshitting was getting steadily more comforting.

"And what if nothing changes?" Terry asked desperately, looking at Neville, panic in his eyes. Neville stopped; he hadn't thought of that one.

"Then you erm," he paused, "you snog him and he wont say no."

Terry stared. Neville looked on, worried.

"That's a plan."


	9. Chapter 9

**In Which Dinner is Discussed.**

Ron and Susan practically stumbled into the kitchen, lips still partially attached. However a giggle and a trip on Susan's part made them brake apart and look around.

"Bloody hell!"

Hermione and Blaise broke apart swiftly. They didn't seem too bothered to have been caught, (although Hermione was rather pink.) Instead they were staring at Hannah.

"Did you get her drunk, Weasley?" asked Blaise in disgust, staring at Susan. To the outsider it would appear Susan had just passed the tipsy stage; she was pink in the face, and giggling, looking rather unsteady; thus holding somewhat precariously onto Ron's arm.

Ron, however, seemed as surprised as Blaise.

"She was normal a minute ago," he stated, looking sideways at her, attempting to avoid looking at her smudged lipstick. She giggled and opened her mouth,

"Low tolerance," she smiled manically, "that and I'm rather giddy after Mr Weasley's kiss." She eyed Ron with a definitely sultry gaze from the corner of her eye. Ron looked sideways at her, blushing.

"Oh the burning!" Hermione said flatly, taking another sip of her cocktail. Blaise stared at her across the kitchen table.

"Don't be so bloody sarcastic!" he exclaimed; though he seemed more impressed than anything.

"Don't be such a hypocrite; sarcasm is one of your hobbies." It appeared after extreme alcohol assumption Hermione's tongue loosened. She was by now on her second of Seamus cocktails which no one really knew the alcohol content of. Blaise snorted; she was right and who was he to argue when she was perfectly willing to snog him continually?

"I'm hungry," Susan announced happily, almost falling into a chair beside Hermione at the table. Ron stood and watched her.

"The Chinese should be here soon," Hermione said, absently flicking a bit of dust from her table.

"Chinese? I like Chinese," said Blaise. He turned and looked at Ron,

"You like Chinese, Weasley?" Ron seemed startled at the random question.

Did someone just say something about food?

"What's it taste like?" he asked, he'd honestly never had it; did he really need to with his mother still sending him food?

Blaise shrugged, "All ethnic and foreign. Expensive and er," he shot Hermione a look; she was stirring her cocktail serenely. "Nice."

"Nice?" Ron thought, "I'm in."

"Good- otherwise you'd be drinking neat Vodka for dinner," Hermione said, draining the rest of her cocktail in one. Blaise stared at her.

He's never been more aroused in his life.

Hermione Granger, so clearly out of her depth that she was resorting to sarcasm and alcohol. Pink in the lips and the cheeks, lipstick somewhat smudged.

Quite abruptly the doorbell rung.

"Get that, Weasley," Blaise ordered. He grabbed Hermione's hand, just as she looked up and pulled her bodily off her seat.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked loudly as he dragged her out of her kitchen and through the lounge. Everyone in the lounge turned to stare at the scene.

"I'm getting you drunk then shagging you senseless."

Hermione allowed herself to be led.

**In Which Hermione gives Herself**

"I- we probably shouldn't be doing this," Hermione said breathlessly, being dragged up the stairs of her house. In truth she couldn't care less.

"No," Blaise agreed, pulling her towards him as they reached the top of the stairs. She was flushed, with matted hair and smudged lipstick, her cocktail still in hand. She was looking invitingly innocent, brown eyes looking straight into his, worry etched in them.

"But it's bloody fun, isn't it?" he grinned. Hermione grinned devilishly and eagerly accepted his kiss. The kiss was perhaps a somewhat cheeky move on Blaise's part; if she can't tell what you're doing, then she can't refuse. He was somehow managing to lead her down the corridor while kissing. Hand's to clothes, mouths to lips, deep breaths, moans, stumbles and drink spillages.

It was the most spontaneous and downright naughtiest thing Hermione had done in her life.

She dragged him from going into the room on the left into her bedroom.

"Bathrooms are only good for afterwards," she said primly, pulling him in and locking the door. Blaise's eyebrows twitched, had she had a personality bypass? Then he realised, the _cocktail._ And for a slight moment he wondered if what they were about to do was right with Hermione just past sober.

The moral side of his brain closed down when Hermione walked towards him, un buttoning her shirt as she went. His mouth went abruptly dry, watching her work magic on her buttons with those fingers and…

He groaned loudly as she slipped her shirt off her shoulders to reveal a black lace bra. It wasn't particularly sexy, nor particularly simple; it was Hermione, darker than one thought, but still not quite all. She threw the shirt off to the side and gently undid her plait, still walking very slowly towards him. She reached him a few seconds later, clad in only a skirt and bra and god only knew what underneath.

She stood about an inch in front, grinning in annoyingly coy way which was meant to turn him on.

He was turned on.

He was beyond turned on, he was beyond horny. His moment with Hermione Granger had come and it was going to be _perfect. _She closed the inch gap between him and abruptly grabbed the front of his trousers. She grinned at his load groan.

"Is that just your wand or are you pleased to see me, Mr Zabini?" it was the oldest line in the book, but coming from her mouth.

"Actually," Blaise said, voice somewhat strangled. "I suppose you could say it's both."

Hermione grinned up at him and took her hands away, beginning to swiftly unbutton his shirt. He would have just about collapsed if he hadn't known her hands were busy doing something else worth while.

The shirt was discarded swiftly and Hermione stared at his chest, grinning.

"Very nice," she said appreciatively, running a hand down it. Blaise smiled and lifted her chin up with the smallest of glances at her beasts.

"I prefer yours."

Their lips were together again, a mish mash of hands tugging at zips and buttons, clothes flying, deep breaths, whispers of love and small laughs.

They were lying on top of Hermione's bed, staring at each other totally naked until Hermione spoke loudly and clearly, looking directly at Blaise. Her eyes were wide, skin tinged pink and her hair a mess.

"Make love to me, Blaise."

**A/N: This chapter has been a bit longer in the pipelines because I've had school exams all of this week. I hope to be posting about 3 more one-shots from now over the next couple of weeks- I have some challenges to set up.**

**This I estimate to be about half way through- and I ain't stopping now**

**Thank you for reading,**

**Ellie**


	10. Chapter 10

**In Which there is an Interlude of Magazines.**

Draco Malfoy inserted a crisp into his mouth very slowly; he then proceeded to chew very slowly. Apparently he couldn't do two things at once and the magazine was clearly more important.

"Is he always like this?" Hannah whispered to Seamus. Seamus nodded sagely, a look of infinite sadness spread comically over his face.

"He's never been how he was before since he discovered 'Cosmo.'" Hannah just about swallowed her own tonsils. Shooting Seamus a sideways look she slumped slightly lower in her chair and eyed the magazine cover. She had thought she was being reasonably subtle; obviously not. Malfoy looked up, still chewing, anger all over his, face.

He spoke in a deadly whisper, "Are you eyeing my magazine, Abbot?"

Hannah sat back up in her seat quickly. "No, no, just… erm, eyeing that er…." She was bullshitting her way into a very deep hole and she knew it.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes as he surveyed her like prey. The matter was clearly serious, as he closed the magazine, marking the page with his finger.

"I don't know if you know this, Abbot," he began in a very slow drawl, eyeing Hannah with great dislike. "But I'm very much attached to my magazines, almost as much as Boot is to his Weasley."

Hannah would have laughed if the situation had been less scary; she really didn't think herself in a position do be annoying Malfoy further. Seamus obviously felt the same; he had ever so quietly moved his chair away from them in the past couple of minutes.

'_Wise move,' _Hannah thought, as Malfoy stared piercingly at her.

"Some of them say I have a problem," Malfoy went on, looking hurt and not slightly insane. "But I know differently, what's wrong with a magazine? One here, one there, honestly, what's the harm?" he was leaning forwards now, talking to her in earnest, eye's wide and pleading.

"Oh nothing," Hannah seconded, again she didn't feel in any position to disagree; Malfoy seemed in need of dire therapy to her.

"I mean," he went on, unaware of the rest of the people in the room eyeing her sympathetically, "really? What's the worst that could happen? The odd article never did any harm to anyone; did you know I'm reading about a girl's struggle to distance herself from her father who is stalking her via means of tomato ketchup and a tampon?" Malfoy looked deadly serious. Hannah was deadly scared. At that moment the doorbell rung,

"Oh that's for me, I need emergency surgery ASAP, bye!" and with that Hannah ran, tail between her legs into the kitchen. She ran in just in time to see Ron answer the door and Hermione and Blaise exit swiftly after her.

_Lucky bitch, she gets a Slytherin sex God and I get a Slytherin magazine God!_

**In which Harry is Confused**

Harry followed Hannah into the kitchen when he heard the doorbell ring; it had the added bonus of avoiding Malfoy, who seemed to be devouring 'Cosmo.' Not to mention he was hungry; it really was rather tiring watching the people around you be involved in all the trivia, trivia which came as standard with Hermione's Dinner Party's.

He positioned himself behind Hannah, talking the food from her and putting it on the table as Ron inspected a credit card Hermione had left out.

"Do you need two?" he asked the delivery man uncertainly, staring at the piece of plastic. The man's eyes widened slightly,

"Erm, if you have another?" Ron pulled open a few draws before finding Hermione's purse. He unzipped it and handed the man the first card in there. He received the two cards and made a hasty exit.

"Plates Harry, plates," Hannah said, collecting the cutlery and napkins which Neville had set out earlier and setting the table. Harry dutifully did as he was told and began setting the table.

"I was just thinking," he began as Ron threw himself into the nearest seat.

"Don't strain yourself," Hannah said mildly, folding napkins.

"No, well… where's Hermione?" Harry asked, ignoring Hannah's comment. She looked at him as if he were stupid.

"And now you mention it Harry, Blaise is missing too!" she was putting on a higher, astonished voice. Harry frowned for a moment,

"NO! I'll kill him!" Harry exclaimed, jumping up. Hannah tutted and pushed him back down.

"Harry, sweetheart, no," she began rather patronizingly. "Hermione, although slightly tipsy is a perfectly capable human being, perhaps more so than most people sober. She is perfectly fine with having her brains shagged out by Mr dark and mysterious Slytherin. Accept it," she spoke calmly, in a way which made Harry want to hit her.

Harry's shoulders slumped, somehow he felt he could never win with women in his life; between Hermione, Hannah and Ginny did he really have a chance? He instead began to take out the Chinese food and distribute rthe cardboard packets onto the plates.

"What does it taste like?" he asked, opening one up and sniffing. Hannah paused, apparently in thought,

"Have you ever had Italian?"

"Yes."

"Not at all like that," said Hannah.

"Oh that tells me a lot," Harry said sarcastically, setting down the food.

"Well actually it does, Italian is quite tomato tasting and herbal, this isn't," Hannah reasoned, with a flourish of her napkin.

"So, is it like Indian?" Harry asked.

"No, not particularly,"

"Like American food?"

"No, 'fraid not,"

"Erm… English food?"

Hannah looked at him sympathetically,

"Be quiet, Harry."


	11. Chapter 11

**In Which There is Sex**

Hermione's words echoed in Blaise's head. He swallowed thickly, looking at her, naked flushed and asking him to make love to her.

He blinked.

Well sure it was going to happen, but hearing those words from Hermione's mouth was about enough to make him have an orgasm on the spot. He gulped again as her face became slightly unsure at his prolonged silence,

"It's okay," she said, hurt red in the face. "I, really it's… wrong of me! I… why would you want to-"

Blaise cut her off with a searing kiss to the mouth. He still didn't know what to say, but felt her babbling wasn't quite as good as her lip action, (although it was a close run thing.)

"Yes," he whispered pulling away. Hermione's eyebrows contracted for a moment- she seemed to have forgotten the question. She suddenly understood and smiled shyly up at him, her fingers weaved through his black hair.

He entered her quickly.

Hermione whimpered and arched her back leaning into him and…

"Fuck, Hermione," Blaise hissed, that was really rubbing in a very pleasurable way at too much of an early stage for his taste.

"Sorry," Hermione said primly, and she started rolling her hips.

The little minx wasn't sorry at all- she had complete control and she knew it. He was desperately trying not to make any noise as she gently moved, her hips drawing a fiery curve down his pelvis. He'd never had anything like this before, and Hermione's whimpers and moans really weren't helping his present condition.

"This would be you queue to start moving, Blaise," Hermione whispered cheekily, apparently quite pleased with her actions; she had rendered him silent.

Blaise snarled and drew out of her, before pushing back in tantalizingly slowly. She moaned loudly, her fingers digging into his back as he repeated for several more times.

"You bloody tease," Hermione gasped as he moved. Blaise grinned against her neck.

"Turnaround is fair play," and quite suddenly his rhythm altered and it was faster and wilder and… "Don't you just love wild monkey sex?" Blaise whispered cheekily in her ear.

Hermione gasped and suddenly stilled, her muscles clamping around him.

"I'll take that as a yes," he grunted, picking up the pace before orgasming himself.

They collapsed cuddled with each other on top of the covers. Hermione turned to him and grinned cheekily.

"Is the Chinese here yet?"

**In Which Seamus isn't quite sure**

"Is it just me-" Seamus began, looking round at the people in the lounge who were feasting on Chinese.

"Yes," said Terry, shovelling noodles into his mouth.

"Well I know you think am kinda weird an' all," Seamus conceded, absent mindidly running a hand through his hair. "But," he frowned; obviously he hadn't really planned out his statement. "Me mam thinks am ok."

"Doesn't she have too?" asked Terry, looking to Seamus, who was seated on a beanbag directly in front of his place on the sofa.

"Well yeah," he frowned and scratched his head again. "But other people think me ok too… right?"

Many in the room hastily took gulps or drinks, or ate food, (or in Malfoy's case read the real life sections in 'Cosmo'; "My father's Jarvey Obsession lead to a tampon massacre…)

Seamus frowned and spoke earnestly, "I know I'm a bit weird like; but I'm harmless enough aren't I?"

"We love you really Seamus," Ginny said from her place by Hermione's antique bookshelf, "but you are rather… Irish."

"What the fuck's that meant to mean?" Seamus demanded. "I'm not gree-"

"You're hair was," Terry pointed out helpfully.

"I'm not a leprechaun," he ploughed on.

"You aren't exactly tall," Terry chipped in again.

"And do I go around saying, 'aye me lucky charms'?"

"Well, last week," Terry began yet again.

"Fuck off Boot," Seamus said, "my point in this all is…." He sighed; apparently he'd forgotten. "Where're Hermione and Zabini?" he asked abruptly, frowning.

Terry held up a hand signalling for silence; all fell quiet.

"I don't think that's Hermione's ghoul making those noises; do you?"

"Terrance Boot!" Ginny shouted; horrified.

"My name is bloody well not 'Terrance'" Terry shouted back, highly indignant.

"I'll call you whatever the hell I like and you'll thank me for it," Ginny snapped.

"Yes Sir," he mumbled, meekly, burying his face in his noodles.

Ginny smiled in a satisfied way and turned back to Seamus.

"You're just…. A simple but wild guy Seamus," she meant it in the nicest of ways; but Seamus obviously took it to be patronizing.

"Simple? I bought all the alcohol to this dinner Party I'll have you know!"

Ginny frowned, "How does that make you not simple?"

"If I was simple I'd have only brought alcohol for myself," he explained.

"Oh, right; makes sense."

No more questions were asked.

**A/N: I would love to give a half accurate estimate of how far through this I am- but in reality I really don't have a clue. I don't even know where this is going, and haven't since I started writing. But it's been okay so far- right?**

**Despite this I'm going to throw myself in at the deep and with a totally random estimate. Erm… between 30 and 35 parts- between 15 and 18 chapters posted on FF.N**

**That means this'll be the last chapter or it'll never end. Ahem. Not my fault. Really. Not me. **

**Ellie**


	12. Chapter 12

**In Which there is Food**

"Erm, should I give Hermione and Blaise some Chinese before it's all gone?" asked Neville uncertainly; staring as the party quickly consumed enough to feed several rabid chimeras.

"If you want to you'll have to be quick," said Susan, taking another bite of her duck. There was the heavy silence in a room accompanied by slurps and burps which suggested the animals had retreated to their watering holes.

Neville approached the main table of food and put the last two cardboard containers of food onto a tray. Shooting the eating group one last look he walked over to the stairs and began to climb them, tray in hand. Really he didn't know what to expect, but knew not to assume Hermione and Blaise would not be looking up notes on rare African fungi.

As he drew up to the door, he took a deep breath and knocked. A few seconds later the door was pulled open by Hermione, slightly pink in the cheeks, several buttons done up the wrong way and hair in a hastily tied back ponytail.

"Oh Neville, thank you so much for saving us some!" she seemed delighted and even gave Neville a peck on the cheek. "Blaise, food!" Hermione called into the room. Blaise appeared behind Hermione, looking completely unruffled, before wrapping his arms around her waist and smiling thinly at Neville.

"Let's go downstairs and eat, I think I've been away too long. Is everyone entertained? Have they all got drinks? Food? Something to do?" Hermione was babbling, apparently she seemed to realise her somewhat lengthy absence, and her hostess duties were catching up with her.

"They're fine," Neville said, as he lead Hermione and Blaise down the stairs. In truth they were curious as to Hermione's disappearance but the food had distracted them. Not that they were simple or anything.

As they entered the lounge there were several loud whistles and laughs directed at the hostess and her escort.

"Tired Granger? Need a magazine refreshment?" Malfoy asked, over the top of the 'Style' magazine.

"That's mine, Draco," Hermione replied briskly, snatching it from his hands.

"Hey! I wanted that new Dolce and Gabbana perfume!" he shouted indignantly.

"Go to the newsagents and cut out the pretty pictures," Hermione replied, perching on the end of the couch next to Terry. "I haven't read it yet."

Malfoy looked away with a pained look upon his face, apparently his withdrawal symptoms started immediately; he was shaking ever so slightly.

"Have some noodles, Malfoy," Blaise said, handing him the last of his.

Malfoy shook his head violently.

"Magazines," he whispered, curling up into a ball, white and shaking.

**In Which Blaise is Shy**

"So," Theo said.

"Er, so," Blaise replied.

The boys were sitting on Hermione's couch, sharing the last of the Chinese food. Theo obviously felt it proper to quiz his friend on his rendezvous with one Hermione Granger.

"So," Theo replied. He grinned up at Blaise and folded his arms smugly, as if he figured out everything.

Blaise frowned and stared at Theo, "Er… so?"

Theo tutted unfolded his arms and addressed Blaise. "You're crap at this, Blaise. So?"

"Oh! So! It was…" Blaise began, finally realising what was going on.

"Don't go soft on me, I tell you this sort of stuff," Theo reminded him.

"You _forcibly_ tell me, I don't want to know any of the details of ladies you've courted," Blaise sniffed, taking the last of the Chinese and tipping it into his mouth.

"Hey! Well, alright, I can't help it if you're shy!"

"I'm not shy, I just don't think it proper," Blaise replied, putting down the Chinese carton next to the sofa.

"Proper? Courting? Ladies? How old are you, Blaise?" Theo asked, somewhat wearily.

"Twenty. My Parents made sure I understood proper etiquette."

"Like shagging tipsy know- it- alls?" Theo raised his eyebrow ironically and settled back comfortably.

Blaise scratched his neck somewhat awkwardly. "Yeah. That," his face suddenly changed. "SO!"

Theo stared for a second, then realised what Blaise was going on about, "No, you cannot distract my attention by saying 'so' a lot."

"You did it with me," Blaise pouted back at him.

"No, I tried to get information of you, and you got confused. Now stop sidetracking me. Was it good?"

Blaise sighed; he wasn't about to give up, "Yes. It was sex, how could it be bad?"

"Well, alright, how good? Okay good, very good, stripper good, she's my true love good-" Blaise cut Theo off, a slight pink blush on his cheeks.

"The last one, but you already knew that."

"But it's better to hear you say it," Theo paused and smiled, "Especially when Hermione's standing right behind us."

Blaise spun round in his seat in time to see a retreating head of bushy brown hair run through the lounge and into the kitchen.


	13. Chapter 13

**In Which Ron collects his thoughts**

The Chinese food was really good.

Really, Ron decided.

Almost as good as pizza.

Almost.

Pizza was good.

But nothing was _as_ good, (though alcohol and snogging Susan Bones came in a close second.)

In this way Ron Weasley found himself thinking about the lack of Chinese food. Or was it the lack of Susan? He scratched his head.

Both.

He had yet to really talk to Susan after their display and she didn't seem to be making an effort to find him. Half of him felt somewhat guilty towards Terry; but that always happened. Terry would come onto Ron, Ron would then run off, scared shitless and sometime within the next couple of hours extreme guilt would set in, closely followed by thoughts somewhere along the lines of. 'He was just being friendly.'

Ron was at times incredibly stupid; according to Terry it was one of his more endearing qualities. Terry also said that Ron's taste for Cherry Cola was-

Ron shook his head violently. Since when did Terry come into Susan thoughts?

He didn't, Ron decided.

He went back to sipping on his Guinness, which had, (for reasons unknown,) a clover on the top of it, which was slowly melting into the froth. Ron's thoughts turned for a brief second to Seamus.

Scary.

Where had Susan got too? She was a good snog and would probably take his mind off his grumbling stomach. Sometimes Ron would eat and eat and eat, and yet he was still hungry. He always suspected involvement from Malfoy. Everyone knew magazines were evil. Even Malfoy, although that never stopped him.

Ron was sat alone in the kitchen, separate from the other friends, in order to collect his thoughts on the evening, over all it had been quite fun, he supposed. Certainly no one had acted much out of character.

He stood up suddenly, setting his drink down and wondered into the lounge. Really, collecting thoughts was overrated. Snogging Susan was much better.

He entered the lounge and looked around; Blaise was standing in the middle, looking highly anxious. Everyone else was sitting in small groups chatting and drinking, (or else reading 'Cosmo' with such vigour that pages were falling out.) Hermione was once again conspicuous only by her absence.

But it was Susan who Ron was on the look out for. He spied her chatting and giggling with Ginny and Harry. Making a swift decision he walked briskly across the room towards her, past the sofa and-

"Hello, Ronald," a purr of a voice was in his ear and he was being bodily restrained by a hand on his arm.

Shit.

He'd forgotten about Boot.

**In Which Blaise is sorry **

Hermione's feet carried her up the stairs at an alarming rate. It was perhaps because of the somewhat manic and stunned expression on her face that her feet were carrying her in this way.

Or perhaps it was the fact that Blaise Zabini was running all of six inches behind her.

Hermione dashed through her halfway, knocking into her washing hamper, and bursting into the bathroom, swiftly locking the door behind her. She leant back onto the door and closed her eyes, panting hard. A second later she heard Blaise crash into the door, and was nearly knocked off her feet.

"Let me in, Hermione," came his muffled yell. She squeezed her eyes shut; hoping somehow to blank him out. Her hopes were lost as several seconds later his voice reverberated again.

"Let me in, Hermione. Please." The please almost did her, but she soon came to her senses.

"Go away, Zabini." Hermione sighed and slid down the door onto her knees. She really wasn't coping well with anything that evening. She had completely let herself go and her dinner party was a mess. To hear what she had heard, that Blaise _loved her _made her feel neither happy nor sad. In fact it made her feel rather sick to the stomach.

"Hermione- _please, _we need to talk," his voice was softer this time and detached in a way which made her want to cry.

"I, I don't know what to say," she said, honestly, her voiced slightly cracked. She hadn't it but Blaise had clearly heard.

"You don't _have _to say anything, you don't have to return my feelings, but if you blank me I'm broken."

Hermione giggled softly into her hands- really it was so corny, but so true- and she knew it. She heaved a shallow sigh and reached up to unlock the door, before shuffling away from it.

The handle clicked round and the door opened to reveal Blaise, pink in the face and awkward looking.

"I'm sorry," he said honestly, looking at his feet. Hermione smiled into her hands.

"For what?"

"For loving you, for letting you hear it light that. You deserve better, Hermione." He was standing up, looking directly at her, twiddling his thumbs awkwardly.

"You haven't anything to be sorry for. I shouldn't have run." Hermione stated, she looked up at him and smiled gently.

"But I'm not sorry for making love to you." Hermione's head jerked upwards.

"Neither am I."

There was several seconds of silence.

"Pull me will you?"


	14. Chapter 14

**In Which Cheese is Discussed**

Harry Potter really wasn't sure what was going on but felt somehow that it had everything to do with Seamus. It usually did. Of course most of the events of the party _were_ the fault of Seamus; primarily alcohol induced situations.

But not even Harry felt that Seamus was entirely to blame for the current situation; a situation which involved Terry attempting to manhandle Ron Weasley; resident redhead. While Harry wasn't the slightly shy teenager he used to be, the sight of Terry attempting to feel up his best friend rather gave him the willies. It seemed he wasn't alone in this; Ron was yet again desperately attempting to make a bid for freedom.

It really wasn't working.

Terry had dragged Ron over to his beanbag and somehow the both of them had managed to be squashed into it, with Terry smirking heavily and talking softly in Ron's ear. Ron appeared severely traumatised and was only being kept in place by the death grip on his arm.

Terry was completely oblivious.

"Do you like cheese, Ronald?" Harry heard him purr. Harry shudders in unison with Ron. Somehow that purr carried all the way over to him from his place by the sofa.

However, judging by the look on Ron's face he might throw up if he ate some cheese.

"I know I do," Terry continued softly. It really was rather amazing how Terry managed to make cheese sound sexy, Harry mused. He peered over at the too of them and registered with vague surprise that Ron appeared to be softening; a truly scary thought. Ron wasn't gay.

"Cheese is good," Ron replied quietly, a definite tremor in his voice. Harry slapped his forehead; once an interest in cheese was given it was all over; Terry had won.

Terry grinned widely, "What's your favourite sort? Cheddar?"

"Wensleydale," Ron appeared to be salivating.

"Double Gloucester," Terry added, smirking.

"Red Leicester,"

"Stilton,"

"Chive,"

Ron and Terry sighed in unison.

"Tesco value," they agreed.

And so ended the great cheese debate.

**A/N: Tesco: A British supermarket and Tesco Value is their own range of products. **

**The inspiration for this cheese debate is from my boyfriend Wil- we have many discussions like this.**

**In Which the Magazines make an Appearance.**

Ginny Weasley figured that if she kept drinking her way through Hermione's Dinner Party all would eventually sort itself out. Well, if it wasn't it was by now far too late, as she was on her 5th "Seamus delight." Perhaps it might've been wise to ask what was in them; but perhaps not. Well, on the plus side, she wasn't dead yet, and Seamus, while… a danger to himself wouldn't hurt a fly.

_Wait. Am I a fly? _Ginny quite suddenly because very confused.

"How's it going, Gingersnap?" Draco Malfoy bounded over to her, magazine, (was that Cosmo?) and a "Seamus delight," in hand. Ginny sighed; Malfoy was the last thing she wanted to deal with right now.

"Fine, thanks," don't open yourself up for conversation, Ginny thought desperately.

"I good too, have you seen this article?" he leaned over, seemingly opening the magazine in a totally random place and pointed at what turned out to be n advertisement for a vacuum cleaner. Ginny eyed him briefly, spread on her lap, eyes glittering eagerly.

"Erm, fascinating," she stated half heartedly. Malfoy nodded earnestly.

"Well I thought so too, but no one else…" he trailed off looking uddenly sad for a moment, a moment so brief that Ginny thought she'd imagined it.

"Really, it's good," Ginny intoned, mentally slapping herself; unwritten rule- don't encourage him!

"I just couldn't believe it when I saw- one of its bags lasts for 567 cleans!" Malfoy was apparently enthralled. Ginny sighed; she never remembered him being this bad. She glanced down at the alcohol clamped firmly in his white knuckles. Ah. Alcohol.

"Erm Draco, are you drinking that, Darling?" Ginny indicated the drink in his hand, coming to a swift decision. He frowned and glanced down, thrown off kilter- he'd been so involved by the vacuum cleaner.

"Er- no," he stared at her puzzled.

"Good," Ginny snatched it from his hand and downed it. No one could handle a pissed Draco Malfoy. She shuddered. Oh the magazines.

It seemed to Ginny, (and she was sure to Hermione as well,) that Malfoy wasn't getting any better. The obsession had started after Lucius Malfoy's death by doxy, (a much hushed up affair, rumour had it a Chinese fireball and a large baguette were included in the debacle.) Malfoy Jnr. Had then tried drinking, something which made him smell and ramble on about his old paintings. He was a bad, boring drunk, if hyper on occasion.

He had then retreated to his father's office; and while sorting through his final will and Testament had found a collection of "Lusty and Luscious," magazines left to him.

The rest was behind him

**A/N: Sorry for the delay- FF.N suspended my account for a week for reasons I can't be bothered to go into. Needless to say I was bemused, but in return 2 chapters!**


	15. Chapter 15

**The End of the Dinner Party**

"Alright you lot- out!" Hermione announced, striding briskly into the lounge, followed by a slightly scared looking Blaise. The room on a whole looked at Hermione's no nonsense expression, various people turned back to the television and took a sip from their drinks, and others giggled tipsily and waved.

"Dinner Party's over, the food's gone and you'll all be too drunk to walk in another hour. I want you all out of my house before any real damage is done." Hermione placed her hands on her hips and glared at the room as a whole.

"But, Hermione," Harry stood up, reasoning in his voice.

"What? The Dinner Party has finished," Hermione said back and without further adieu conjured a black bin bag from mid air and began picking up paper cups.

The room turned away from their various activities to watch her, no one saying much. After several seconds Hermione paused in her activities and looked up questioningly.

"You're not moving," she stated, a definite edge in her voice.

Suddenly everyone was on their feet, stretching or giggling, but all were cohort enough to know that if they outstayed their welcome they wouldn't have a very happy Hermione on their hands.

"Thanks, Hermione, it's been fun," Harry and Ron sidled up (Terry attached by what could have been magic binding glue to Ron's arm.) They looked alright; they seemed to have been the most sensible ones. Hermione gave them each a hug and bid them good night, (not before Ron had held up a threatening fist to Blaise.)

A slow stream of people exited, Hannah and Susan (supporting Theo Nott who was unable to walk on his own,) Neville, closely followed by Seamus, who was clutching a bottle of Guinness firmly in his hand, and bid a smiley farewell to Hermione. However, Draco Malfoy had not left, and was to be found rummaging frantically through a pile of magazines on Hermione's coffee table. His hair was mussed, his clothes rumpled and he was throwing ones off at random.

"Draco- time to go," Hermione called gently.

He snapped round and nodded wildly.

"Right, yes, okay," he picked up the heap of magazines he had thrown off and walked briskly over to Hermione and Blaise.

"Draco, my magazines?" Hermione spoke to him like a naughty child. He hung his head.

"But, _'Glamour'_…" he trailed off looking at his feet. With only a look from Hermione he dropped the magazines on the spot and hugged Hermione.

"I," he swallowed, "take my money off me. I'll only buy more." Hermione extracted his wallet and pulled out the few sickles and muggle notes he had, having previously confiscated all of his bank cards.

Draco sighed, pushed his hair from his eyes and squared his shoulders. He nodded at Blaise and strode briskly into the kitchen and out of the door.

The door slammed shut and Hermione turned to Blaise.

"Eventful evening,"

They nodded.

**After the Dinner Party**

Harry Potter- Continued with being Ron's best friend and took on some journalism work. Was last seen waking up in Pansy Parkinson's flat, heard to be expressing great confusion.

Ron Weasley- After leaving the Dinner Party with Terry Boot on arm proceeded to become as gay as… well Terry Boot. Mr Weasley and Boot are currently in a happy relationship in a far fetched Scottish castle.

Hermione Granger- Not charging Mr Blaise Zabini rent.

Blaise Zabini- Makes the best scrambled eggs and black coffee.

Neville Longbottom- Enjoys attending Mr Draco Malfoy's therapy sessions.

Draco Malfoy- Attends therapy sessions. Self confessed addict.

Ginny Weasley- Still scared of muggle televisions, is heard to have an addiction to muggle milkshakes.

Seamus Finnegan- Currently improving his mixing of muggle drinks.

Terry Boot- Has succeeded in his quest for Ron love. Never found his two pound coin.

Hannah Abbot- Still fights a relentless battle against her husband's leather seat phobia.

Theo Nott- Enjoys his wife's fight against his leather seat phobia.

Susan Bones- Attempting to improve her low tolerance by way of extended drinking.

**A/N: This is it- thank you and goodnight.**

**Ellie**


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